And The Truth Shall Set you Free
by The Mad Hellcat
Summary: Chance is dosed with truth serum, and Guerrero is taking care of him.


Title: And The Truth Shall Set You Free

Author: The Mad Hellcat

Rating: R

Pairing: Chance/Guerrero

Disclaimer: Unbetaed. I edited it but that and a dollar can get you something from McDonalds.

Summary: Chance is dosed with truth serum, and Guerrero is taking care of him.

Author's Note: It's a little OOC. I wrote this story while trying to get over the never ending lung infection, inspired by a reaction I had to one of my drugs and thought 'what the hell I'll post it'.

The dart had originally been meant for the target, Derek Blane, a young defense lawyer, who got legendary hit man Joey Jerome off for murder on a mere technicality. The threat had been the sister of the man Joey was accused of murdering, Gordon Phillips. The dart was full of truth serum, Sodium Pentothal, the sister wanted to know what Joey told him, the poor woman was crazy with grief, she had seen her brother be brutally murdered but never caught a good look of the murderer, but she was convinced (probably by the DA) that it was Jerome.

The dart didn't hit a major vein so it took the drug a few minutes to work, just enough time to disarm the woman and get the lawyer safely into Winston's care in the white van before he crashed. Guerrero was there, wait, what was he doing there he was supposed to be out of town? Guerrero removed the dart, knelt down in front of him and shook him gently, "Dude, can you hear me?" Guerrero's voice was weird, like a tape playing on slow motion.

"You sound weird," Chance slurred slightly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, that is what I was afraid of," Guerrero said.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Winston asked, you know his voice sounded weird to, just like Guerrero's.

"You know how the woman was screaming back at the courthouse about truth and she would force it out of him?"

"What are you saying?"

"He's been dosed with sodium pentothal."

"Truth serum?"

"Yep," Guerrero said, "it's an anesthetic as well. He is all sorts of fucked up right now."

"Great," Winston said, "how are we going to get him out of here? And find the sister?"

"I'll deal with her," Guerrero growled and Chance fell forward, his head lightly hitting Guerrero's shoulder. He felt numb, tired and totally fucked up. "We have to get him out of here now," Guerrero said, "god knows how much she gave him."

"Get him to a doctor?"

"No, he just needs an IV to flush his system out," Guerrero said and turned to Chance, "come on, Dude, you have to sit up."

"I don't want to," Chance said unable to stop himself.

"Why not?"

"You smell good," Chance took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of smoke, a polo knock off and the man himself.

"Ok," Winston nodded, "he is totally wasted."

"Told you," Guerrero said, but his voice sounded a touch rougher than before. Suddenly he was sitting upright again, Guerrero propping Chance's body up against his. Oh yes, this was much nicer. Chance knew that Guerrero wore the two shirts and the jacket to hide all the scar issue on his chest and shoulders, but it really was a shame because it hid the fact the man was all muscle, lean and lithe. It felt good to have that body pressed up against his.

Damn this truth serum stuff made you be honest with yourself to. Shit!

"What about…?" Chance asked.

"I've got that covered," Winston said. The world had a funhouse-trick mirror look to it, everything was really fuzzy around the edges. He really wanted to lay down. Chance had been taught to resist this stuff and drugs like it years ago, and he hated the stuff even then. It was difficult to resist the drug, he was very sensitive to certain drugs, but he put all his energy into keeping his mouth shut. He could serious endanger his relationship with his best friend by saying the wrong thing. "Dude, do you know where you are?" Guerrero asked.

"With you," Chance replied, looking Guerrero square in the eyes.

"Ok, do you know where we are?"

"Going home," Chance answered.

"You have to stay with me, ok?"

"I would like to stay with you," Chance said, his head feeling like it weighed a million pounds and laid it back down on Guerrero's shoulder carefully.

"You have no clue what you are saying," Guerrero said quietly.

"Yes, I do," Chance said.

"What the hell did that crazy bitch cut that drug with?"

"Nothing. You remember back in Reno, back at the White Star motel when you when you were dosing me with this shit, help me get a resistance to it?" Chance whispered into Guerrero's ear.

"Unfortunately yes," Guerrero shivered at the memory. Chance had a bad reaction to one of the drugs and seized. He was bed ridden for two days, Guerrero never left his side.

"Yes, feels exactly like the truth serum you gave me," he explained, "maybe a little bit stronger."

"Remember what I taught you," Guerrero said, "I know the world is all fuzzy, you have to try to make your mind…"

"Go somewhere else," Chance sighed.

"Exactly," he said, "You'll be ok, Chance."

Chance closed his eyes and forced himself to think of another world, another reality if nothing else to forget this slight nausea that was creeping up on him. He and Guerrero curled up on the couch, watching a movie as a couple, it was a secret fantasy he had. He had just gotten to the part were he was able to stroke Guerrero's arm when he heard an outside voice, "Chance? Come on Dude, talk to me, I told you to stay with me, remember?"

"Is he ok?" Winston asked.

"He is fine," Guerrero responded back, "just fucked up."

"Then let him sleep it off?"

"Forget it, he can get sick to his stomach off these kind of drugs," Guerrero explained.

"Great."

"I will tell you if he needs to stop," he said, "just keep going. How far out are we?"

"Twenty minutes," Winston said.

"I'm not going to puke," Chance said.

"Famous last words, Dude."

"You trained me."

"Stop mentioning that," Guerrero said very quietly, he ran his fingers through Chance's hair.

"It wasn't your fault," he said, "stop blaming yourself."

"I am not blaming myself," Guerrero snapped.

Chance knew he was lying but forced himself not to say anything. He wanted to soak up the feeling of being in Guerrero's personal space. "Chance?"

"Hmmm?" he responded.

"I need you to stay with me," Guerrero said, "I don't want to ask you questions but I will if I have to."

"Please don't, you my learn things you don't want to know," he said.

Guerrero pulled away from him slightly, Chance could feel his stare, "I already know about Istanbul."

Chance bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from responding. "Open your eyes, Dude," Guerrero whispered.

Chance had to think fast, Guerrero had a knack that bordered on mind reading if he could look into someone's eyes. In the very back of his mind he knew he could convince Guerrero that if he opened his eyes he would puke, but that damn drug made it difficult to lie and Guerrero would pick up on that so instead Chance just shook his head 'no'. "I can't help you if you don't let me," he whispered into Chance's ear, and that caused all sorts of kinky images to appear behind Chance's eyelids. Dammit, how far are they away from home?

"Open your eyes," he growled and Chance shivered with pent up desire. Unfortunately, Guerrero mistook the shiver for the beginnings of a seizure, "Oh god no," he whispered.

Chance immediately opened his eyes and picked his head up slightly, "I'm ok."

He was only a few centimeters from Guerrero's face, the world still swimming like the funhouse mirrors but he could clearly see how deep blue Guerrero's eyes were. Time stopped a moment and he knew he was being read, but he didn't care. He could see hints of things in Guerrero's eyes to, even though he was too fucked up to understand why Guerrero's eyes were starting to darken.

"Everything ok back there?" Winston asked, "what's wrong?"

Chance touched the side of Guerrero's face and stared at him with total concentration. His eyes, nose, face, wild hair, stubble, the man was more handsome than ever and suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off him. "Everything is fine," Guerrero said, "how much longer?"

"Maybe another fifteen minutes," Winston said, "would be less if I wasn't following Grandma Hubbert!"

"Drive carefully," Guerrero said to Winston but his focus never leaving Chance, "we don't have seat belts back here."

Chance leaned forward slightly, closing more of the distance between them. "What are you… what do you want to do?" Guerrero asked.

"Kiss you," he whispered.

"How long?"

Chance didn't understand the question and tilted his head; Guerrero got the message, "How long have you wanted to kiss me, Chance?"

"A very long time."

"Oh god," Guerrero's eyes darkened even more, and Chance leaned forward the rest of the way. Now this kiss lacked all finesse and in the back of his mind was terrified what Guerrero would do and how this would change their relationship, but he couldn't stop himself. Guerrero didn't move, the kiss was totally one sided. Chance forced himself to stop, pull away, and he felt sick to his stomach again but for a completely different reason, he couldn't look at Guerrero so he kept his eyes closed. He felt hands gently cradle his head a moment before he felt breath on his lips and a soft kiss. Chance made the dumbest happy sound in the back of his throat and thought he heard Guerrero snicker as he ended the kiss.

"What is going on back there?" Winston asked.

"I told you everything is fine," Guerrero explained slowly, something he only did when Winston annoyed him.

"Then why are you whispering?" Winston asked again, "I am not deaf you know and you are sitting right behind me!"

"I've got this under control. You just focus on getting us home," he said harshly as he carefully put Chance's head back on his shoulder, petting his hair softly.

"Guerrero?" Chance whispered.

"Shhhh," he whispered into Chance's hear, "everything is ok, Dude, everything is all right. I understand." Chance smiled slightly and sighed happily before Guerrero continued saying, "There was something else in that serum that made you take leave of your senses, but that I am not above taking full advantage of that. Obviously."

Chance didn't understand, he had told Guerrero that there was nothing else in the drug. He opened his mouth to complain, but Guerrero covered his mouth with his hand, "No more, Chance, I know it's not your fault, but no more."

Chance forced himself to pick up his head and look Guerrero in the eyes, he wanted the man to see his confusion and hurt. Guerrero shook his head, still keeping Chance's mouth covered, he pushed Chance's head back down firmly and whispered, "Ok, Dude, I'll make you a deal. If you remember any of this conversation, which I doubt because you are higher than heaven on something, I promise we will have our wicked way with each other. Agree?"

Chance nodded and closed his eyes. He started to doze off when he felt the van stop and heard Guerrero and Winston talk a moment. The side door opened and Chance was vaguely aware of being moved, then he was laying down on a couch. He felt a prick on his wrist and could have sworn he smelled sea air before falling into a deeper sleep.

Winston kept the target in the apartment next door that man was so terrified he agreed to being locked in without a complaint. He knew something had happened between Chance and Guerrero in the back, but he also knew better than to question Guerrero about it. Anyway, the man said he was going to deal with the threat. Winston took the opportunity, while Chance was still passed out, to have that dart analyzed. He wondered what sort of drug(s) were pumped into Chance's system to make him get like this. Guerrero didn't seemed all that surprised.

He got the call about the results as Guerrero walked through the door. "Did you find her?" Winston asked.

"And got her committed," Guerrero said, "she is SFGH whenever the police want to try to pick her up. How is Chance?"

"Still asleep," Winston said, "no seizures, no vomiting, just out like a light."

"He'll probably be so hung over when he wakes up," Guerrero shook his head as he went into Chance's fridge and pulled out a beer.

"I shouldn't think so," Winston explained, "oh, by the way, I had a friend of mine at the crime lab analyze the dart."

"So what was the sodium pentothal cut with?"

"Nothing," Winston said, "although it was a concentrated dose for a man one and a half times Chance's size, but that is it."

Guerrero froze a moment, "How sure are they that it was pure?"

"Davis is the head of the CSI," he said, "and he is sure."

Guerrero took a huge swig of his beer, "I'm going to check on Chance. If you need to go back to the office I will stay with him."

"I'll stay until he wakes up," Winston said, "so what did he tell you in the back that has you so on edge."

"Mind your own business, Winston," Guerrero said as he went into the living room. Chance was still asleep and the IV bag was almost empty. Guerrero carefully removed the IV and cleaned it up before sitting down in the chair to finish his beer and wait for Chance to wake up.

Chance woke up slowly, he had to go to the bathroom but he was still so tired. He opened his eyes and looked around. The world no longer looked like a funhouse, but it was still a little fuzzy around the edges. He sat up slowly, still feeling a little queasy in the stomach. "Dude, welcome back," he felt Guerrero's hand on his back, helping him up, "do you need anything?"

"Bathroom. Now."

Guerrero laughed quietly and helped Chance to his feet, he was still a little unsteady and helped him into the bathroom and waited outside the door for Chance to pee. He washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell. Great. He opened up the door and walked slowly toward the couch, Guerrero appeared next to him. "What happened?" he asked.

There was hurt in Guerrero's eyes for a split second before he answered, "You got drugged…"

"Not that I mean with the job," Chance said, "did you find Alyssa Phillips?"

"Yes, I had her committed, the woman is out of her mind," Guerrero said.

"With her brother's death and the pressure the DA was putting on her I'm not surprised she cracked," Chance nodded, "the case was not about getting justice for Gordon Phillips but about bringing down Jerome. You worked with Joey before do you think he killed Phillips?"

"I can find out," he said, "come on, lets get you to bed. We can worry about that tomorrow."

"Get me to bed, eh? Well you did promise," Chance grinned, "what was that about wicked ways…?"

"Dude, you can hardly stay up right," Guerrero shook his head, "and you look like shit."

"Ever the romantic."

"Yeah, well I did think you were high as a kite," Guerrero his voice dropping to a whisper, "Winston is in the kitchen, Dude."

Chance nodded and changed the subject, "You thought I was high, eh?"

"You were really fucked up."

Chance leaned into Guerrero and whispered in his ear, "I'm glad you covered my mouth when you did who knows what else I might have told you."

Guerrero ushered them quickly into Chance's bedroom and shut the door half way, so he could listen incase Winston decided to check on them. "And what else might have you said?"

"I think you already know," Chance said; Guerrero smiled and kissed Chance lightly and whispered against his mouth, "Me to."


End file.
